Mixed Signals
by risiepookie
Summary: Ron knew it was wrong, but that didn't stop him from needing her. One-shot.


**Disclaimer:** Characters do not belong to me. No infringement intended.

**Title:** Mixed Signals  
**Rating:** R  
**Words:** 1,235  
**Warnings:** angst, AU  
**Summary:** Ron knew it was wrong, but that didn't stop him from needing her.  
**A/N:** Please keep an open-mind while reading this one! Oh, and note the angst warning. ~Risie :o)

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"This is so fucked up," Hermione said, panting hard.

Ron grunted in response.

"This is a bad idea," she continued, arching to take more of him.

He didn't really want to think about it. Having sex with Hermione never seemed like a bad idea. Perhaps that was the problem. He was married to someone else- someone who made him immensely happy. But, he wondered, if he was so immensely happy, why did this ache fill him when he didn't have Hermione? Why did he want this intense physical connection with her? Why was he so desperate and in need of her touch? Why did it sometimes seem as though he wouldn't survive the week without being near to her?

He couldn't bring himself to think of the real reason. Instead, he pushed forward into her lovely warmth and lost himself in feeling. This would be the last time, he promised himself, the last time he asked for this. It was such a dangerous game they were playing. Too much heart-break had made him weak, but he would be strong after this. He _had_ to be strong after this. He had to resist her.

"I don't even care anymore- just love me! Love me like you love Her-"

"Don't say her name," Ron said, and kissed Hermione to stop her incessant talking. She thought too much about everything: the consequences, the moments, what every little movement and moan and word meant. He didn't want to talk or think. He wanted to memorise these moments, savour each second, because they would be gone too soon. He would have to return to reality and faithfulness and pretending that he could be whole without her.

It wasn't as if he didn't have long, slender fingers caressing his back in the morning. It wasn't as though he didn't have someone who wanted him and made him feel like he was all that would ever be needed. It wasn't like he didn't have strong thighs and lightly jutting hips waiting to cradle him or to try to restrain his passion. He had arms to hug him tightly and soft lips to kiss him and wash away the pain of the day. He had someone who wanted children with him, wanted 'til death do us part', wanted every part of his body and soul.

It was that last part which really got Ron. That was just it: he didn't have every part of his body and soul to surrender. Hermione had stolen a good chunk of him years ago and he had no idea how to get it back. Was it even possible to get it back after letting her inside his skin? She was just there, coating nearly every memory, showering him with her presence. The problem was that he couldn't have her and he couldn't get rid of her either. She'd made herself part of his life-blood, she'd made herself indispensible, and then she'd left him. She was cruel and he was angry. He was angry that he was somehow expected to live every day without her. He was angry that he was sharing his life with someone other than her.

He wasn't sure who to blame.

He moved roughly into her, trying to pour all of his anger and frustration and hurt into her. He wanted to be rid of it. He wanted to purge the feelings and her shadow from inside him- he wanted to start clean again.

"Sometimes I hate you," Hermione said.

"No, you don't."

"I really do."

"You love me."

"That's not in question. Look at what I'm doing for you right now. That doesn't change the fact that sometimes I hate you."

"If you really hate me, you need to stop letting me put my cock inside you. You're sending me really mixed signals."

"Crude, Ron, and you know I can't help it. It makes you feel better and me feel worse. I have to hate you or myself to keep putting us through this."

Perhaps Hermione was right. Perhaps there had to be a certain level of hate involved to make this work at all. Maybe it was self-hatred, more than anything, which kept this awful cycle in motion for both of them.

Maybe it was grief.

"Less talking, more fucking," Ron said and thrust forward. He could feel the impending release building within him, but he fought it. This was the last time he would know her like this. This was the last time he would be able to take refuge in her soft body and warm arms and bruising kisses.

"It's almost time- hurry, love!" Hermione groaned loudly and squeezed her internal muscles to help him along. She wouldn't let him draw it out anymore, wouldn't help him to hold onto this moment for just a little bit longer.

He leaned forward and claimed her lips, surging into her with erratic movements. The usual comfort of release didn't flood him, but left him hollow and yearning. He continued to kiss her with everything he had inside of him, the resentment, the ache, the love, the desire to go back and change things, the pain of knowing what the next moment would probably bring, the bitterness of wanting her. He wanted her to remember all of it, the same way he wanted to sear it into his mind and then let it go.

Ron pulled his head back and gazed into bright green eyes. Tears sprung into his own eyes as he rolled to the side and threw a hand over his face.

It was over. An achingly short hour with polyjuice potion and another encounter was over. She had vanished before his eyes again.

"This won't bring her back," Harry said. "You know that," he whispered.

Harry's words hurt him. Ron wanted to scream at the world that this wasn't happening. She couldn't be gone. Half of his heart couldn't have been ripped from his chest. How could he still be breathing if it was true?

"You _know_ that," Harry said again.

Ron bit his lip to keep from crying out. He did know, but he didn't want to face reality: Hermione was dead. She was gone. She had been gone for two years and he still ached for her as though it was yesterday. Three intertwined lives became two. Tears leaked from his eyes and slid down his cheeks. Harry's fingers swiftly and gently brushed them away.

"_I_ need you. _I'm_ here. I miss her, too... But she's dead, Ron. We're not a trio anymore." Harry cried out with his last words. "We're just a couple now and I can't keep doing this, not even for you."

Ron turned his body toward Harry's, still sweaty and breathing heavily from exertion. He pulled Harry into his side and clasped him tightly, refusing to let go.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Ron said over and over. He chanted it like a mantra, kissing Harry's eyes, cheeks, nose, anywhere he could reach with each repetition. He looked at Harry and really saw him, the flawed hero, his tired lover and husband. Ron was convinced the reason he'd survived the last two years was because of the man in his arms.

He deserved better. They both did.

"You have to try to move on. I can't do it for both of us anymore," Harry said through his tears.

"I'll try. I promise I'll try."

*****

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Thank you for reading! I'd love to know what you thought! ~Risie :o)


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